


charmed one(cursed one)

by dragons_SRSunn



Category: A Twisted Tale Collection - Liz Braswell & Elizabeth Lim & Jen Calonita, Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: As Old As Time, As Old As Time is a twisted version of Beauty and the Beast, Canonical Character Death, Canonical in As Old As Time anyway, Character Death, Dark, Frederic himself is a charmante, I'm pretty sure there's a term for that but I'm not sure what it is, the les charmantes versus les naturels conflict, yet he hates them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27498445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragons_SRSunn/pseuds/dragons_SRSunn
Summary: Alaric Potts's last moments.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	charmed one(cursed one)

**Author's Note:**

> This was really written by a friend who was too shy to get her own account.

Alaric stumbled backward, unsure of what had just happened. Had Frederic pushed him? That was unlikely-Frederic was not the type of man who would raise his hand in anger. And they hadn't even been arguing-

And then he saw the slim, delicate surgeon's knife sticking out of his sternum.

He felt weak. He leaned against the wall for support. Waves of pain began to flow out of his wound, spreading all over his body. He grasped the handle of the knife, but the pain caused by the slightest movement of the knife made him see black for a moment.

"If you want to live longer, you should not remove the knife." Frederic's voice sounded dry, expressionless, as though he was reading aloud a passage from one of his medical books. "The knife is currently staunching the blood flow. If you take it out, you will bleed to death that much faster."

Alaric was already bleeding quite enough. The front of his shirt was dark with it, and the stench made him feel sick. He felt dizzy, staring at the river of red that seemed to be flowing out from his chest.

"Frederic," he whispered. "Why?"

"I do regret this, Alaric," Frederic said, sounding sincere. "But I had to do this."

"You _had_ to?!" Fury overcame pain for a moment. "I was your friend! I got you a job! I-" He staggered. 

Frederic caught him as he stumbled, and gently leaned him against the wall. It was as if he wanted to make the end of Alaric's life as comfortable as possible, despite _causing_ the end of his life. Why? What had driven him to kill his friend? Or his supposed friend...

Alaric slid down the wall, ending up half-leaning, half-laying against it. "Why?" he asked again.

Frederic bent down so he could speak to him. "You betrayed your own kind, Alaric."

 _This_ was what this was about? The _charmantes_? "I did not betray my kind. If anything, I helped to redeem them."

"You were helping the _charmantes_ escape, Alaric." Frederic sighed. "And very well too, I have to give you that. My searchers have not found many of them, even now."

"Your searchers?" Alaric was confused. "Why are you searching for..."

And then he knew.

"You?" he whispered. " _You_ are behind the _charmantes_ disappearing?"

Frederic nodded. "Not all of them, of course. Some of them saw which way the wind was blowing and fled. Several with your help, of course." He sounded disapproving.

"But, Frederic," Alaric whispered. "What have they done to you? To kill them..."

"I am not killing them," Frederic assured him. "I am _curing_ them. I am trying to make them normal, like the rest of _les naturels._ With the full support of our king and queen, of course."

Alaric stared at him in horror. "But you," he said. "You are a _charmante."_

Frederic's sallow face twisted in fury and loathing.

"I am _not._ Not any more. I have cured myself too. You see?"

He took off his hat and turned his face to the side so Alaric could see the jagged scars on his scalp.

"I am pure now," he whispered, his eyes gleaming fanatically. "Like you. But not like you, because you were helping the _charmantes_ escape. And so I had to kill you. I am sorry, but it had to be done."

"Beatrice," Alaric whispered. "Charles..."

"You were wise enough not to involve your wife and son, and both of them are pure, of course," Frederic told him. "They will be fine. Unless the fever gets them, of course." he added as an afterthought.

But Alaric knew who else _had_ been involved. "Maurice," he breathed. "Rosalind.."

At this, an unreadable expression flashed across Frederic's face. "Maurice and young Belle should be fine," he said. "Both of them are _naturel_ , of course. At least, I assume Belle is, but with a mother like hers, you never know. But Rosalind..." He sighed, as though he was genuinely regretful. "She is a _charmante._ "

"And you," Alaric whispered. His strength was fading. "You are a _charmante_ , no matter...no matter what you did to yourself. And...you will pay for everything...you have done."

"Will I?" Frederic asked, replacing his hat. "What makes you so sure?"

Alaric would have laughed, but he no longer had the strength and it hurt to much. Only the ghost of a smile managed to touch his lips. "Magic always...comes back...on itself."

He couldn't see clearly anymore, but he thought Frederic flinched.

The last emotions Alaric Potts felt were horror at what Frederic had done-to himself, to the _charmantes_ , all of it-, love and fear for his wife and son, worry for Maurice and Rosalind, and, curiously enough, pity for Frederic and his self-hatred and what he had done to himself.

Then the light died in his eyes, and he lay still.

Frederic D'Arque looked at the body of his former friend for a few moments, not without some regret.

Then he found a shovel and began to dig.


End file.
